


andrews & son

by jugheadjones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, how did fred climb the stairs? i cannot tell you, just let me do my thing, lemme just fix the end of ep 1 rly quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/pseuds/jugheadjones
Summary: Takes place post so2e01. I think we all desperately needed a scene where Fred gets to tell Archie not to sit up all night and day with a baseball bat.





	andrews & son

“Archie?” 

He starts at the voice, head jerking abruptly up from his chest so that his neck throbs with the movement. Outside the kitchen, the sky is an inky black: a watery-eyed squint at the microwave clock reveals it to be 2:34. He’d dozed off at his vigil, and one of the latches from the suitcase is cutting a painful imprint into the bottom of his right thigh. He shifts his position, swallowing hard, resisting the urge to bolt to his feet. Fred’s standing at the bottom of the stairwell, a little paler and a little thinner than Archie’s used to seeing him, but otherwise whole, otherwise alive. There’s something in his face Archie can’t place - a kind of sadness under the confusion. Fred looks him up and down, taking in the suitcase, the baseball bat, the places where his pink cast had gone frayed because he’d started picking at it. 

Fred shakes his head. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m -” Archie sits up straighter, blinking in an attempt to clear the tiredness from his eyes. The hallway swims around him and refocuses. “I’m making sure nothing gets in.”

Fred just looks at him, uncomprehending. Archie squeezes the handle of the bat until it bites into his palms. “I’m protecting you.” 

“Archie, let me have that.” 

The bat seems very small when Fred takes it out of his hands, small and non-threatening. His skin is damp where the wood leaves it. Fred looks at the bat in his hands for a long time. Then, propping it against the floor and using it as a crutch, he drags a chair up close to where Archie’s sitting.

“Dad-” begins Archie, but Fred reaches out and takes Archie’s hands in his, squeezing gently and cutting off his explanation as effectively as if he had silenced him aloud. When he speaks, his voice is very soft. 

“Listen to me. You have been so, so brave, and I am so proud of you.” 

“I wasn't brave.” Archie swallows, tears rising in his eyes. “Dad, when that gun went off I didn't do anything. I just closed my eyes and waited for him to leave. I could have gone to you. I could have grabbed him, I could have-”

“ _ Archie _ .” Archie falls silent again, his breathing shuddering slightly. Fred squeezes his hands tight. “You being a hero doesn't matter to me. What matters is you staying safe.” He reaches out and cups Archie’s cheek, his eyes damp and shining in the dim light. “I am so proud of you for what you did. I am so grateful that you didn't try to fight.” 

“But I could have done  _ something _ -”

Fred shakes his head again, the faintest hint of exasperation bleeding into his voice. “Archie, you got me to that hospital. You saved my life.” His tone softens and he runs a thumb under Archie’s eye, brushing away the tears that have begun to fall. “You are a hero. You've done more than enough for me, kiddo.” 

Archie shakes his head, his voice breaking. “You got  _ shot  _ for me, dad.” 

Fred laughs at that, a quiet, watery laugh. “Yeah, I did. But, Archie, I took that bullet because it was my job.” Dropping his hands back to Archie’s trembling fists, his thumb traces gentle circles over Archie’s skin. “It's my job to do the protecting. That's why I'm the dad. It's  _ your _ job to be fifteen, and play football, and write music, and hang out with your friends and be in love for the first time.” He smiles again at him, unshed tears glowing in his eyes. “I love you for helping out. I love you for trying to protect me. But that's not your job.” When Archie doesn’t reply, he reaches out and brushes a fresh tear off Archie’s chin. “I'm a big guy, kiddo, I can handle myself.”  

Archie’s voice shakes. “But, Dad-” 

Fred smiles sadly at him. “You’re really scared, aren’t you?” 

“I-” Archie manages through his closed throat. He doesn’t know how to answer, and Fred squeezes his hands tighter. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s scary. But this isn’t what’s going to help.” Keeping one hand tight over both of Archie’s, he gently moves the baseball bat from where it’s leaning against the stairs to lay it down against the floor. “Besides, you’ve forgotten who we live next to.” His eyes are begging for Archie to smile and he tries - a shaky, vacant flinch of the lips. “Do you really think anything’s going to get past Alice Cooper next door?”

“No,” admits Archie, his heart rate suddenly racing. “But what if -” 

Fred doesn’t hush him, just waits patiently for him to finish. When Archie says nothing, he prompts him softly. “What if what?”

_ It could happen _ , he wants to say. A worst case scenario. But the conviction is stronger than any detail his mind can conjure up, and his tongue only sits dumbly in his mouth, his thoughts frozen. “I don’t know,” he admits finally, his voice little more than a whisper. 

Fred gives his hands one last warm squeeze. “How about you come protect me upstairs?”

* * *

“Is there room for one more?” 

Fred turns his head carefully on the pillow so that he can look at Mary, one hand still smoothing gently through Archie’s hair. Archie’s asleep against him, his body outside the covers, his head nestled into the cradle of Fred’s shoulder. “I don't know, he’s pretty big.” 

Mary smiles at that, soft and fond and a little wistful. He watches her lay carefully down at the far edge of the bed, settling in on her left side so that she’s facing him. There’s space: it’s a little eerie, how perfectly they still fit, how perfectly they always have in a bed of this size. The three of them. 

“Thanks for taking care of him,” says Mary softly, because she hasn’t said it yet. 

Fred smiles quietly, because Archie’s their best thing, the best thing they’ve ever done for each other. “We did good.” 

“Yeah,” she says softly, brushing the cool back of her hand over his cheek and lips. “We did.” 


End file.
